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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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Archive name: velma.txt (MFdom/F, huml, bdsm)
Authors name: Amy B. (amyb@hoops.com)
Story title : Velma
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This work is copyrighted to the author © 1997. Please
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Velma (MFdom/F, huml, bdsm)
by Amy B. (amyb@hoops.com)
***
Yes I am a bondage freak, but at least I'm a cute one.
Amy
Let me tell you a little bit about me. When my great
adventure began, I was young, age 25, and not very
experienced. Oh, I'd had sex any number of times, in a
number of different ways, but I never felt the wild
excitement in actually doing those things that I
imagined I would.
I had a million different, very kinky fantasies, things
that I really wanted to do but was afraid to try, even
if I had the opportunity to try... which I really
didn't. Mostly, my fantasies involved me as a sort of
slave girl, captured by some strong individual. Some
days I imagined my master to be a male and sometimes a
female, with special events for each one.
What I thought I really wanted was a strong master or
mistress, one who also had wild sexual fantasies, and
who would take charge of me and would then act out those
fantasies, obviously with me playing out the part of
slave girl, used by a master (or maybe better yet,
mistress) in strange and delicious ways, hopefully with
an audience watching... and most deliciously of all...
whether I liked it or not!
I wanted strange and sexy things to happen and not have
any say as to the agenda, to be used, perhaps even to be
a little bit abused. My figure is good, that is, I think
it's good, and maybe you would agree - that is, you
would if you like full bodied girls with large, shapely
tits.
I'm tall, about 5'7", with a nice, full shapely bust,
good legs, and a delicious round bottom. I love being
nude, and enjoy other people seeing me nude. I have even
posed nude for guys, just for fun, very naughty, very
sexy pictures, like me masturbating for him, with a
large rubber dildo... you may have even seen my pictures
on the Internet. I did find that very exciting (though I
would just die if those pictures ever showed my face).
I also posed nude once for a very, very sexy amateur
lady photographer, but that is a different story that I
don't intend to tell you today. All I will say about
that, is that she was dressed when she took the first
pictures of me, she was nude when she took the last
pictures of me, and the very best pictures would have
been taken a while later, but by then, frankly, she was
too busy to think about taking pictures. She had her
mind on something else (and her tongue into something
else, too).
I love reading about kinky sex. Sometimes I go to the
porno shops, to look at the fascinating things they
write about, and to look at the exciting array of rubber
dildos and accessories that they sell. I even bought a
couple of those things strictly as a scientific
experiment, you understand. I know a nice shop in Miami
that sells remarkable stuff and I have purchased four
different dildos and a couple of rubber butt plungers.
I adore playing with these toys, and have a secret
fantasy about somebody else putting them into me
(instead of me doing it myself). If it was a super sexy
guy who did it, and if he started me out with a nice,
bare bottomed spanking, that would be just great.
And if it was a marvelous, beautiful, dominant super
sexy lady who did it to me, that would be the greatest.
In one of the shops I found a magazine, a Swingers
Journal that seemed interesting. It had just fascinating
pictures, especially in the B&D area that was my
particular excitement at the time. The ads seemed like
fun. One of these showed a guy whose area of interest
was in spankings, enemas, and Greek things about which I
had many secret thoughts but not much real experience.
I decided that I would answer this particular ad not
intending ever to meet this guy, but rather, just to
hear what he had to say. A week or so later I got a
letter from him, with a nude picture.
His name was Tom. He was a divorcee. He was about 35,
well built, well hung, too. And he was holding a leather
paddle in his hand and hanging from the ceiling next to
him was a large enema bag, a long rubber hose attached
to it, and connected to the end of that, a black rubber
looking device that got inserted into the recipient of
this enema, and really did the work. It looked like a
huge, erect, black penis. Believe me, it was an
impressive picture.
His letter told about how he liked to be masterful, how
he thought that there was no sight so beautiful as a
naked, shapely, female bottom, and nothing he liked to
do so much as to pet it, to kiss it and to spank it
until it was rosy pink.
Then, when she was fully ready and receptive, to give
her a long, slow, deep enema, filling her fuller than
she had ever been filled before, using, of course, a
tube so that she could not expel it until permitted. And
then to lubricate her pretty asshole, greasing it
generously until it was slippery, and then to fuck it
deeply and firmly. His letter excited me tremendously.
He became an instantaneous member in my library of
fantasies. I wrote back to him, he replied again, and
this time included a telephone number.
I stared at that for a long time. I knew that calling
the number was taking a very serious step that there was
at least a chance that I would follow up and visit him
at, as he described it, his Domination Laboratory.
I did call the number. When he replied, his voice was
much as I expected it to be, and the conversation also
was about what I had expected. We agreed to meet not at
his place, but on neutral ground, at a certain coffee
shop, nothing else promised but the meeting.
I was willing to go that far in advance, but no further
at all. Oh, I knew I would go ahead and meet him at the
coffee shop, but I did have serious doubts about whether
I would go from there to his place.
The day of the meeting came, and as promised, I went. In
fact, I got there early so that I could scout out the
scene, and if he showed, and if I did not like his looks
up close, I could sneak out. Well, he did show up on
time, and I did like his looks. We had a fascinating
conversation about everything else in the world except
sex.
We found a million things to talk about, found lots of
areas of common interest, a few fun things to fight
about, too. After a long time, maybe as much as a couple
of hours, it was time to leave.
I declined to go to his place yet, but since I did not
have a car with me, I had hopped on the bus to get
there, he drove me home. As luck would have it, a vacant
parking place was right there almost at my front door.
He walked me to the door, and right into my apartment.
What happened next was an awful long way from what our
letters talked about. We were soon petting and in short
order he had me out of my sweater and bra, and soon out
of everything else.
He got me very excited, undressed himself and showed off
a nice looking, very erect penis. We did have very nice,
normal sex. It was fun, pleasant, and certainly not
earth shaking. I am not even sure now that he made me
come that night. I don't think so, but then, I rarely do
in regular intercourse.
He called me again the following week. Soon, we were
dating, more or less regularly, having good sex once or
twice a week, but no domination, no spankings.
One evening we did go to his place. This time, he showed
me his 'laboratory', a room in the basement, with wood
paneled walls, a large, sturdy oak library table with a
gym mat as a top, and a rubber sheet over it. That was
the laboratory. We wondered what it would be like if I
was up on it, bottom up.
I complied.
Attached to each leg of the table was a leather strap.
He put a leather dog collar around each of my wrists,
and then fastened the wrist to one of the leather straps
stretching my arms out wide, and helpless. Very quickly,
my ankles were similarly fastened. I was now spread-
eagled, completely under his control.
He talked to me, and came back to our early
correspondence, and what I had told him I wanted him to
do. And all this time, his hands were wandering over my
bare ass. Suddenly, SPLAT!!! He whacked me with his big,
bare hand across my ass. It stung a little bit, but
certainly did not really HURT. Again, and again... a few
more times.
Then he went to the closet. He took out a leather strop.
Long and wicked looking. He talked to me some more. And
then he raised the strop and swished it, fairly hard,
across my ass. It did hurt, but it felt good at the same
time.
He gave me a fairly thorough spanking that day, followed
by the love enema he had talked about... a long, slow
enema that took 20 or 30 minutes to go in. Along the way
a couple of times I told him that I could not take any
more. Each time, he would stop the water flow for a
while until I got used to the feeling... and then start
it again.
Eventually, he gave me as much as he wanted me to have,
but then he made me keep it in for a while longer. After
he finally did let me expel it into the toilet, I got to
rest a while, but then he did Greek me.
He first expanded my anus with a greased finger, and
then two and three at the same time, stretching me. He
had a conical, rubber dildo, and a butt plugger. Slowly
almost tenderly, he inserted it in me until the thickest
part was past the sphincter. In it went the rest of the
way, the thick rim preventing it from going in too far.
He asked me how it felt.
Actually, it felt most marvelous. I was almost
disappointed when he pulled it out, and I was shocked
when from his drawer he pulled out a still larger
version of the same thing. This looked too big to ever
get into such a tight place.
However, with patience, and perseverance and plenty of
pressure, he did get it in slowly, stretching me larger,
until the largest diameter passed the sphincter and it
was lodged fully up inside me. He gave me a little more
of the leather strop, so I could have the two sensations
together.
After a while, the rubber plug came out. He got up
astride, put the blunt, rigid end of his cock against my
now stretched rosette.
After what had happened so far, that did not really hurt
at all... it was sort of tight, but not painful. And to
me, the sensation of being fucked in the ass by a
masterful man was just marvelous, though I must say that
never did I have the feeling that I was out of control.
I always felt that any time I really wanted him to stop
and go no further, that he would have without question.
Never did I feel totally dominated, subjugated, like the
subdued slave girl I really wanted to be. The next time
or two that we were together, things were much the same.
After we had done the same things a few times, we began
to talk about fantasies, and he made me tell him mine.
It relates to Mrs. Olsen, who was my landlady, and who
really disliked me.
If I ever was going to try the slave girl experience,
totally controlled by another, she would be absolutely
my first choice. Now the weird thing about her was that
she once had been a strong disciplinarian, a teacher in
one of those strange schools where the students are
punished.
I overheard her telling a lady friend once that she did
have an experience. She had a student who badly needed
the discipline, and nothing that Mrs. Olsen ever did
seemed to make that one shape up. Repeated applications
of the leather did not make any difference.
The cure for her, according to Mrs. Olsen, was that she
was given a thorough stropping, forced to take a number
of tablespoons of castor oil, thank Mrs. Olsen for each
one, stropped some more, and then given a large mouthful
of Mrs. Olsen's shit to eat, a tablespoonful at a time.
I overheard this and never forgot it. And, I am sure I
masturbated about it a thousand times afterward.
That was my fantasy. I wanted to be taken over by
somebody who disliked me, stripped, spanked thoroughly,
made to eat her pussy, and then more humiliating things.
Now understand about Mrs. Olsen. She is tall and strong,
a very handsome woman, with a very potent personality.
She is about 45. There is no Mr. Olsen around. I do not
know if she is a widow or a divorcee, she is not the
kind of person that you ask questions of.
We genuinely do not like each other. I think she is
overbearing. She thinks that I'm wild, spoiled, and
disrespectful. While she is my landlady, I cannot wait
to get out of there, and she cannot wait to have me
gone. But she still is very much in my fantasies.
This story, embellished somewhat, is what I told to Tom.
He was very interested in this, and said that he was
going to look into making it all happen. He had me write
him a letter, detailing all this, though how exactly he
plans to make use of it, I don't know.
Today, Tom called at lunchtime and asked me to come over
that evening, and to be sure to be there before 8:00PM.
He said that we might, just might, have company, though
he wouldn't say who. I am fantasizing about this, have
been all day now, not knowing what to expect. Today is
Thursday, I thought, and today is the day that perhaps I
am going to meet my fate.
Thomas had heard my story and had questioned me on it in
detail. He knew what I thought I wanted. He was
delighted to help me, to play in our little drama. He
had my letter, written in my own hand, addressed to him,
which detailed everything.
He had also purchased a pint bottle of castor oil at the
drug store, the only item on the list that he did not
have in advance. And he had made the calls, I believe,
talked to Mrs. Olsen, explained our relationship, and
had her surprised (and he says, delighted and
enthusiastic) agreement to participate.
He told her that he had been regularly spanking me, had
nude photos of me that he knew she would want to see,
and had ideas of advanced discipline for me that he
wanted to discuss with her. She was cautious, but
interested, after all, this was really right up her
alley, and it was being handed to her on a silver
platter, so to speak.
This time, for the first time, I did not drive to his
place. I knew that if the adventure was going to go
according to his plan that I would be taken home, in
bondage, by Mrs. Olsen. My car would only be in the way.
I went there by cab, dressed as usual in jeans and a
sweater.
The clothes made no difference. I would be nude as soon
as I got there. Thomas' house was no different than at
any other time. The furnishings are sparse, but
adequate. The room down in the basement, which was the
"playroom" looked the same. But on the floor stood a
brown paper bag.
Tom instructed me to strip down to my panties, but to
leave them on, a pair of black nylon bikini panties that
he had bought for me that he liked. I was to put each
article of clothing that I removed into that paper bag.
Soon enough I was almost nude, trembling slightly,
though not from fright. Thomas had seen me nude now a
number of times and had used me in the various ways that
a punished girl is used. Instead, I was trembling in
anticipation. This might be the night that Mrs. Olsen
would join us, and if she did, there was no telling how
the agenda might go.
This time, for preparation, all that happened was that
Tom put wrist cuffs on me and fastened my wrists behind
my back. I was helpless. And I was wondering if she
would appear, and if she did show up, if she would
participate, and if she did participate how severe she
would be with me. I had fantasies about how she would be
dressed.
No matter what she had on top I knew that she would wear
a black merry widow, a short corset like garment, only
hip length, and with that, black opera length hose and
garters. And of course, black panties that revealed more
than they hid, through which would clearly be visible
her fulsome behind. I had seen her dressed this way, and
it really depressed me. It also really excited me. I had
visions of kissing that large, shapely bottom, of
thrusting my tongue up inside, and I hated these
visions. And secretly begged that she make it happen.
I stood, just marking time. The phone rang.
Tom went upstairs to talk, and seemed gone forever. Then
the doorbell rang. I could hear voices as he answered
upstairs, but could not identify who was there. I could
only hope. Footsteps could be heard, two pair were
coming down the stairs, and there she was!!
Mrs. Velma Olsen stood there, looking just gorgeous,
dressed in a simple, severe black dress. She looked
around the room, looked finally at me, standing wearing
only my panties, my wrists fastened behind my back. "My
dear", she said. "You can't imagine how glad I am to see
you here. And looking so lovely, too".
I stood still as her hands ran across my lower body,
fondling my bottom, gently squeezing one cheek of my
ass. Her hands ran up my front, taking hold of each bare
breast and fondling me. She took my nipples, each
between a thumb and forefinger and gently squeezed,
bringing them to instant erection. Then using my nipples
to pull by, dragged me in very close.
"Let me see your tongue," she commanded. I opened my
mouth, showed her the tip of my tongue. Squeezing
somewhat harder, she ordered me "Further, darling. Stick
it all the way out so that I can see it!"
I complied.
She opened her mouth, and we deep kissed. And gently,
she bit down on my tongue. Not very hard, but hard
enough. This was not at all what I had expected. "My
dear," she said, "Tom has told me how naughty you've
been. I'm not really surprised, but it's nice to have
confirmation that I have been correct. He has asked that
I help in modifying your behavior. Won't that be fun?"
And in saying that she squeezed hard on each erect
nipple, making me gasp. She removed the black frock. She
did not have the merry widow on, rather, she was wearing
only a sexy looking deep cut black bra, and black panty
hose. This emphasized her curvaceous figure and with her
high heels, she had a totally queenly appearance.
Tom, watching closely, his eyes popping out at the
sight, was obviously very erect. It seemed certain that
at least for now, he was going to be a voyeur in this
drama, not a direct participant. It also seemed that he
did not mind in the least what might happen to me.
Velma sat, and pulled me over her lap, bottom up. Her
hands fondled my bikini-clad rump, squeezing here and
there, probing a bit. A hand ran inside the waistband
and squeezed naked flesh, not hard, but rather more a
loving squeeze. She quickly pulled my panties down,
tugged them all the way off, and asked me to open my
legs so that she could see all my parts.
Her hands probed here and there. First a finger touched
all around my vulva, testing for creaminess. I was
sopping wet. The finger probed inward, deeply, came out
again and rubbed gently across my now erect clit, almost
making me leap off her lap. The finger found its way
between the upturned cheeks of my bottom, found the
rosebud pointing up at her, gently forced its way
inside, full depth. This also seemed to please her. "Ooh
yes, you are just lovely," she said, "just the way I
knew you would be."
She raised her right hand and spanked me fiercely across
one cheek of my upturned bottom. Very slowly, she
lectured me on good behavior, punctuating almost every
point with another hard swat on my bare bottom, first on
one cheek and then the other, alternating back and forth
it seemed, to be sure that each side got its fair share.
Well, each side got more than its fair share.
Very soon she brought me to tears. This went on for a
while, much longer than I had expected, and much more of
a spanking than Tom had ever given me. I was crying now,
not knowing what to say.
I begged her to stop, promising her as a little girl
might that I would be good, that I would never again be
disrespectful, that I would obey her in anything, just
anything, that she might want me to do.
Finally she pushed me off onto the floor, ordered me to
kneel before her. I had truly been punished and my
bottom felt like it was on fire. I felt humiliated to be
treated this way, and to have Tom see me treated this
way.
I felt totally ashamed of myself for getting myself into
this situation. And I felt totally under her control.
But most of all, I felt absolutely, orgasmically
excited. She was Queen, she was in charge, and what
would happen was completely up to her. What she wanted
from me, she would get!
She took off her black bra, and showed me (and Tom) a
pair of delicious, shapely, large breasts. She offered
me a thick, dark brown nipple to kiss. I had no doubts
whatever about what was going to happen now, and I did
just as she indicated she wanted me to do, I leaned
forward, and took that luscious morsel into my mouth and
sucked it lovingly.
Shortly, her hand found my earlobe, and pulled me
downward. She shucked her black underpants, spread her
husky, shapely thighs, and showed me a musky crotch,
obviously excited, that she wanted me to kiss as a
gesture of submission.
All the time that I had known her, hated her, always I
had known that this was what I really wanted. I had
dreamed about it a thousand times, the thought of me
being on my knees, kneeling before her widespread
thighs, peering into her open, expectant crotch, looking
at the pink lips and her erect clit, standing up and
awaiting my kiss.
I knew the significance of this position. I was going to
lean forward and kiss her there, and suck her juices,
and give her pleasure. And by so doing, she was going to
take possession of me to use me any way that she chose
to use me in the future. I was going to be converted to
her slave girl, and she would own me and operate me.
I buried my face in it, her gorgeous, feminine cunt,
tasting her juices, enjoying the strange flavors and
enjoying the sexy, gorgeous feeling of the humiliation
of doing this with Tom watching. He loved it.
I was still on my knees between her thighs when she
reached to the table for the bottle of castor oil, and a
tablespoon. A large spoonful was poured, and offered to
me. I pursed my lips, knowing that no taste did I hate
so much as this.
I refused.
She smiled, reached over and took a nipple, and pinched
HARD. It hurt, really hurt. I screamed, not
understanding her sudden change in mood. She said, "Now
there you are being willful, disobedient. That is
exactly what I am going to correct." She pinched again,
and I immediately opened my mouth wide, and got for my
troubles the tablespoonful of the castor oil. I gagged
on it, but managed to swallow it down.
"Would you like another?" she asked.
When I gasped out "NOOO," she pinched again, saying,
"Now that IS the WRONG answer, darling. Let me ask
again. Would you like another?"
I knew what would happen if I said no again. I did not
know what to say. She said it for me. She said, "May I
have another, that would be the way that you would say
it if you had good manners."
She gave me another pinch, this time not so hard but
still hard enough. And of course, I did ask for another,
and was duly rewarded with a large spoonful, and then a
moment later, another and another...
I was let alone for a while, while Velma and Tom
disappeared upstairs. They were gone for a long time.
When they came back, I could see that Tom had lost his
erection. Velma sat down again before me, her thighs
spread again, and beckoned me to lick her. I did, of
course, and found now that she was ever so much more
juicy than before, a totally different flavor too, I
could taste more that her juices this time.
Obviously, out of my sight, they had fucked. She had
paid Tom, in a sense, for turning me over to her for
discipline, and she had thanked him in the manner he
liked best.
Velma reached into her purse, and found a new toy, a
large nipple clip that she attached to one of my
nipples, and snapped a leash onto it. This was a new way
to lead somebody around. She found my coat, threw it
over my shoulders, took the leash in one hand, the paper
bag with my clothes in the other, said goodbye to Tom,
and led me out to her car.
As she led me, her attitude seemed to be that of a great
lady who had just procured a new toy, and now meant to
take it home and play with it in depth. I was the toy.
And I knew this game that we were going to play. She was
going to make the rules and I was going to abide by them
- without any limits. She would be judge and jury and
enforcer.
In the car, she reached into the coat, took my other
breast in her hand and very gently fondled it, rubbing
the nipple. She turned her face to me, and offered me a
very wet kiss, and as well, a totally confusing mixture
of sensations and feelings.
Her hand ran between my thighs, into my pussy, feeling
its wetness. She gently, very gently fingered my clit,
bringing me almost, but not quite to orgasm. And she
nibbled on my ear lobe, and thrust a tongue into my ear,
in the meanwhile whispering, "Darling girl, I am going
to be your teacher, and I am going to just love being
your teacher. Did you enjoy going down on me?"
Considering the remarkable talent she had shown for
pinching my nipples and making me do her thing, I knew I
had better give the right answer. I said that I loved
it. "Good," she said, "since you like it so well, do it
again, right now."
So, for another ten or fifteen minutes we sat parked in
front of Tom's house, my face buried in her humid cunt,
my tongue sucking her clit, and all the while, that
castor oil was doing its insidious work, taking me ever
closer to that particular point of no return.
Away we drove, finally, towards home. I was certain that
I would never make it there, considering the wild
sensations in my bowels. Somehow, I did manage to hold
on long enough, my stomach heaving and quenching as she
led me up the stairs, firmly holding the leash.
I begged for permission to go to the bathroom, and to my
surprise, it was granted without question. Velma was for
the moment in her sweet phase. I came back out, and was
granted permission to shower and to rest a bit. Rest for
what? Well, as it turned out, for quite a bit more.
An hour later, after relaxing and watching the evening
news on TV, she ordered me up. My hands were still
fastened behind my back, and after some really loving,
gentle play with my nipples, we began to discuss
discipline. She reviewed my conduct over the past
several years that we had known each other.
She pointed to a number of specific instances where, she
thought, I could have, should have behaved differently.
Now, she told me, she was going to teach me a number of
things about better manners and better behavior and that
total obedience to recognized authority were certainly
vital parts of the lessons.
Obviously, she was now the recognized authority that she
referred to. To determine if I was sufficiently
obedient, she turned her back to me, bent forward to
give me a delightful view of her bare ass, her legs
spread so that I could see her brown rosette, almost
winking at me. I knew what she wanted me to do, to give
it a long, wet, sweet thrusting kiss. At that point, I
could not.
She said that this was disobedience, exactly what she
had meant. And announcing this, she bent me over the end
of the couch, my bottom raised. She left me there for a
moment, went to fetch something from the closet, and
showed it to me, a wicked looking leather strap, about
18" long, 3" wide, and the end cut into three separate
tongues of leather. She told me that it was a trainer,
sometimes called a tawse, but by any name a marvelous
tool for one job, for teaching.
She said that nature had provided every female a place
to be taught, her naked behind. There, lessons could be
given, that might be painful for the moment, but they
would be remembered and no permanent harm would come.
And with that, she raised the tawse, and SLAP!!
A fiery streak, right across the crowns of both cheeks.
I screamed out. She said nothing, and for a long time,
the only sound in the room was the voice from the TV.
Time dragged, and my behind was on fire. I had never
really felt anything like it before. And then, SLAP!!
Again, she burned my bottom, as before.
Now it hurt twice as much, if that was possible. I was
sobbing, crying, begging her to let me go. All that got
me was a third and then a fourth shot of the wicked
tawse across my rump. She asked me questions about
things I had done the previous year, about things I had
said, about Tom.
She wanted to know if I had been letting him fuck me. I
said no. That immediately earned me another vicious swat
with the tawse. Again she asked, and this time I
confessed. She wanted to know if I had him use me in the
ass. I denied it, and got yet another stroke.
I confessed that Tom had been using me anally. She noted
that down for future reference, as if that was another
transgression that she intended to cure. I was crying
hysterically now, willing to tell her anything, willing
to confess to any sin, and getting in the process a
barnburner of a spanking.
Suddenly it stopped. She said to me, "What would you
like to do, now?" I knew there was only one answer to
that question, and I said it, "Please let me show you
let me kiss your beautiful ass." She smiled slightly,
bent forward again, and again, offered her brown rosette
to my tongue.
Now, finally, I did what I had always really wanted to
do. I thrust my tongue against it, probed inward
slightly, tasted her strange flavor, and gave her truly
the kiss of total obedience. She left the room. After
what seemed a long time, she returned, carrying a paper
plate. I knew what would happen next, and sure enough,
she found a spoon, and then asked me if I wanted my
dessert now.
I gulped, cried again, and said no.
And for that refusal, got another two strokes of the
tawse. She asked again, and knowing that this would go
on until I said yes, I did so. She made me request it,
made me ask her to please feed me my dessert.
END
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. You only have one body per lifetime,
so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 2